


Reckless

by Poise08



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poise08/pseuds/Poise08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new Dauntless initiate catches the eye of the handsome and intimidating Eric.  Neither of them plan on letting the fact that he's a leader and her trainer stand in the way of their attraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

My roll is unceremonious into the gravel of the rooftop. The train from which we’ve all just leapt is gone by the time I shakily pull myself to my feet. There are maybe thirty of us on that roof- dauntless born mostly, a few candor and myself from erudite make up the transfer population. I brush the dust from my blue dress and tug it back down to my knees from where it’s ridden up with the tumble. I scan the surrounding crowd to gage whether I’ve flashed anyone. No one is looking at me. They are all focused on a man who is now addressing the new initiates. I join the ranks, peering between shoulders to see the speaker. “Listen up! My name is Eric and I’m lucky enough to be partially responsible for you all.” His tone is sarcastic as he scans our group. He is tall and broadly muscled, I myself am not small, not delicate, but he dwarves me. He’s handsome. That much is undeniable, his sharp jaw working more than his speech merits, his cool grey gaze glaring over beautifully high cheekbones. I trace the tattoos on his neck with my eyes, down to where his tight black t-shirt obscures my view. “Down there.” He gestures lazily over the far edge of the roof “is the way into dauntless. If you can’t enter here, you aren’t cut out to enter at all.” His seeming disinterest is underscored by the intensity with which he watches us all, looking for our smallest movements, awaiting our hesitation. “You want us to jump off of a ledge?” a candor girl asks. Eric’s stare on her is so withering I think we all feel it. “Yes.” He tells us with a humorless smile. I watch the way his muscles ripple as he crosses his arms over his built chest to wait us out. I lay a hand on the arm of the boy directly ahead of me, beginning to a clear a path that seems to immediately clear for me when the rest of the initiates realize what I’m doing. I walk right up to him. He raises a pierced eyebrow, returning my own perusing look. “This ledge, right here?” I ask with exaggerated casualness, pointing prettily to the drop. His full lips don’t change their attitude but his eerie grey eyes seem to smirk. “That’s the one.” I nod as I approach the edge. I don’t look over though, I turn back to the group, to him, and let myself stare as I tip myself backwards off of the roof of the building. The air is loud and overwhelming, whipping my hair and skirt into a frenzy. I don’t yell because the gravity is attempting to send my sternum to my spine. Then I bounce into the net. The web immediately tilts as hands reach for me, pulling me off and up. “Name?” Someone who I don’t register asks me. “Lana” I tell him. “First jumper! Lana!” There are cheers and whoops and I’m swallowed by a mass of reveling dauntless.


	2. II

My feet tingle against the cold stone floor. Their padding is the only noise left from the raucous afternoon of touring and introductions and eating and drinking. A fair amount of drinking really. I’m still warm from the alcohol and so feel fine in only the tank top and small athletic shorts I was planning to sleep in. I needed some time to myself. I needed this quiet and this time to let the place, my new home, get into my bones. I ran my fingertips gently along the rough walls, noting divots, alcoves, skipping over doors: storage, meeting rooms and apartments. I allow myself to become lost in the labyrinthine warrens of the underground compound. I thought over faces, Eliza: dauntless born, brown hair cropped short, feline looking. Clark: Candor, black curls falling into pale green eyes. Sofia, Mark, Nicholas. Max, the leader of dauntless. Four, in charge of us transfers. And Eric. I lick my lips thinking of his gaze on me during our rooftop interaction. If I was unsure of whether I was dauntless brave before, I suppose I’m doubtless now. My hand trails into the open air of an adjoining corridor. Someone grabs it, flipping my long fingers into a hard grip. The hand engulfing mine is huge and warm, long fingered, lean wrist, the tendons along the back prominent in this hold. I don’t try to jerk my hand away because it’s Eric who has it. “Eric.” I roll his name around my mouth more sensually than the greeting warrants. I must still be a little drunk. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me. I wonder briefly if he sought me out. I physically shake that thought away, letting my long hair swish around me. “First Jumper…” “Lana” I offer, “Lana.” I languidly watch him watch me. I reconcile with the fact that I am more than a little drunk. “What is it that you think you are doing?” His tone is lazy and I like the way he drawls. I lean a little towards him “I’m exploring” I tell him confidentially. He doesn’t move away from me, merely smirks down. “I see, but that’s not exactly something an intoxicated initiate is at liberty to do.” He tells me, dryly as ever. I pout somewhat playfully but make to turn back from whence I came. “Hi-ho, Hi-ho it’s off to bed I go then” I sing the antiquated reference quietly. I meet resistance though, he still has hold of my hand. “I’ll see you back.” He releases my hand to bring his down to the small of my back in an ushering gesture. His fingers press the bare skin there where my top has ridden up from the waistband of my shorts. It feels like a cool sparkler is set off on my skin and I ease into his touch a little too much because he pulls his hand away and simply walks next to me instead. I shoot a sideways glance at all of him. He’s looking straight ahead, jaw set, flexing the hand he’s just taken off of me. I turn my gaze ahead again. We reach the dormitory door in silence. “Don’t wander off again” he orders me, voice lowered to accommodate the nearby sleepers. I look up at him, my emboldened streak still withstanding, “If I do will you come find me?” There’s silence, his jaw knotted further than usual, and the sober parts of my brain inform me that it’s too much, I feel a hot blush coloring my ears and I avert my gaze for the first time. “Sleep it off First Jumper Lana.” He tells me, turning and walking away. I can’t help but watch him leave though, his fluid gate carrying him away from me.


	3. III

“Everybody up!” Four bellows from the dorm doorway “Training time.” I groan and Sofia, bunked above me, swings a limp hand and her sheet of tawny hair over the edge of her upper bed “I completely agree” she says through a yawn. We’re all in flexible black jeans and black t-shirts as we shuffle sluggishly out of the dorms. I pull a final bobby pin from between my teeth to secure my bun. Four throws open huge metal double doors in on a warehouse sized gymnasium. Rows of punching bags, stacks of mats, targets of different sizes and shapes beside locked mesh cages of guns, knives, bows and other blades. Eric is there and I try to tuck myself behind Sofia and Eliza but I know when his gaze passes over me because I can feel it. “Today marks the beginning of your training.” He informed us all, voice just loud enough to flare in our hungover heads. “There are two phases, physical and mental. Physical starts now. You’ll be ranked, so be clear you are all in competition with one another. Bottom ten are out after physical, same after mental.” “What do you mean out?” asks the candor skeptic from the roof. “I mean out, gone, factionless.” A couple people shift uncomfortably, I myself feel my mouth go dry. “Why weren’t we told this?” inquires a boy beside Mark. Eric levels him with a murderous stare. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have chosen dauntless if you’d known?” He doesn’t wait for any sort of reply and the boy isn’t stupid enough to offer one. “If that’s the case, you get out now. If you really are one of us, it won’t matter to you that you might fail.” He’s addressing all of us now “You chose us. Now we have to choose you.” His stare falls on me as it sweeps the assembled initiates and the tight hot place that’s been building low in my stomach listening to him tenses. I try to calm the effect. Closing my eyes, slowing my breaths. I hope my arousal doesn’t show, but I hope it doesn’t seem like fear either. Four mercifully calls for us to line up at the bags. He demonstrates a few jabs, a simple series of kicks and hits and tells us to go at it. I let the fire from earlier out into the bag. We’ve all been going for a while, Four and Eric walking down the lines watching, occasionally adjusting. My arms are burning but my frustration is burning hotter and I keep hitting. I feel a hand on the small of my back, exactly where he’d touched me the night before. I shiver at the contact, as he slides his large palm to wrap around my hip, pulling it more snuggly square to the bag. Suddenly my breaths are ragged from more than the exercise. His hand stays there, burning through my clothes. “Keep power here, your arms will get less fatigued.” He tells me lowly. His breath ruffles the downy hairs at the nape of my neck. I roll my head ever so slightly in response, baring my neck to him. His hand is gone and he is walking on down the line.


	4. IV

I do try to sleep. I lie in my bunk and kick the blankets into knots around my feverish limbs as I think about his voice and gaze and breath on my neck. I’ve had flings back in Erudite but there was no one there with the sheer physical appeal of Eric. Let alone his power or his drollness. I push myself out of bed and slide out the door. I wander down new corridors tonight. Not so much thinking about memorizing the place as I am trying to erase thinking with constant movement. An object at rest will stay at rest. A mind in fantasy will stay in fantasy. They are more synonymous than is immediately apparent. “Lana?” Good God it’s him, stalking up the hall behind me like some predatory animal. I take a deep breath, dread beginning to poke through my preoccupation. He had told me not to wander, he personally had told me not to wander. No more than twenty four hours ago. And here I was wandering. I made myself look at him, try to gage his ire. There wasn’t any though. He just looks down at me, studying me. “You found me.” I try weakly for a joke but it issues forth as a statement. He cocks his pierced eyebrow at me “It seems more like you found me,” he tells me, jerking his head at the door we’re stopped beside. “This is your…” I blush hard “apartment, yeah,” he finishes for me. I feel like I’ve stalked him. It certainly looks as though I’ve stalked him. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know! I just couldn’t sleep, lot’s on my mind…” I trail off, acutely aware that he is what has been on my mind. “You want a drink?” The question surprises me into smiling, a drink with him instead of disciplinary action sounds more appealing than I can let him know. “Do you have any coffee?” He chuckles a low, dark laugh “I thought you said you were having trouble sleeping.” I grin, encouraged, “I am, so I might as well say ‘fuck it’ really.” He nods slowly, looking me over once before unlocking his door and showing me inside. He flicks a light on and makes his way through to an open kitchen. I linger in this first room, grey couch, concrete table and books, he has one full bookcase against one of the short walls but then just stacks and stacks of loose books. I wander, perusing titles, touching their spines: cloth, paper and leather. It feels so much like home I find myself sitting on the floor, my hand just resting on one pile being beaten by waves of realizing I won’t ever be Erudite, won’t be with my family, don’t have that home. I think he’s said my name a couple of times because he’s standing in front of me now, looking down on me. I give my head a little shake. “Sorry,” I stand using his offered hand, “I was spacing out. I like your books.” He holds my hand a second there, just providing pressure and I wonder if her knows that I was missing Erudite. I hope not. He would see it as weak. I’m suddenly very tired but I plaster a small smile on my lips. “How about that coffee?” I ask him but his visage doesn’t really lighten with mine. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?” He asks me. “Well, actually suddenly, I… I am a bit tired… I…” My stutter betrays some emotion and I clamp my mouth shut embarrassed and wary. But he just nods this little unknowable nod and points to his couch. “I’ll get you a blanket, you look dead on your feet.” It’s matter of fact and not open for discussion. I move to the couch, I’m somewhat thankful that I don’t have to leave the books just yet. I flop sideways, hair splaying over the pillow. I let my hand drape off the couch the brush against a stack of books on the floor. My eyes grow heavier and heavier. He’s coming back in now but I can’t seem to move. He ends up covering me with a blanket and clicking off the lights. “Sleep it off First Jumper Lana” he says quietly as he shuts a door I assume leads to his room. “Thank you,” I murmur to the apartment at large.


	5. V

I smell coffee. “You have to get up and out, training in thirty.” It’s Eric. I slept on his couch. I had been homesick in front of Eric and then imposed on his personal space. I bolt upright. “I’m very sorry to have imposed.” I sound very stiff “I must have been more tired than I knew.” He waves my apology away and motions me towards a cup of coffee on the table in one gesture. “Training’s a bitch. I know. I make it that way. Just stop by the dormitory before the gym, change, start day two.” He’s being short, sure, but intensely kind at the heart of this interaction. “I have to get down there early. You can find your way?” I nod, “Thank you, Eric.” He pauses, hand on the doorknob, not looking at me. “Don’t mention it.” He says. And I think he means it in every sense. He pulls the door open and is gone. I drink my coffee in a scalding rush, scrub the cup clean in the kitchen and am out the door before the mug has settled in the drying rack.   
Day two was harder than day one, day three harder than both, four felt like death and five felt like hell. The weekend was beautifully and blissfully welcome. In a testament to everyone’s fatigue no one had noticed my night absent from the dorms, for which I was thankful. But now all of our exhaustion made us punchy. “Tattoos!” hollered Clark through the dorm causing Eliza to pop up from her bunk across the room, Sofia and I to tumble from our beds in a tangle and Mark to emerge, damp haired, from the showers. “Tattoos!” We all echoed as if it were some demented war cry, or the howling of ink-crazed wolves. We skipped and tripped down to the pit from the dorm, crowding into the tattoo shop in a rowdy gaggle. Clark and Eliza already knew what they wanted, Mark requested the artist choose and “surprise him”. Sofia and I trundle over to the books of artists’ works and begin flipping through them. Sofia decides quickly on a tiny elemental fire symbol and takes her seat in a chair. Eliza is done with hers and I am still browsing, nothing striking me as a necessary addition to my body. I finally slam the last book shut in frustration. The book makes the rewarding, shuffling snap that books make though and I look closely at it. At the book. A book. I should get a book tattoo. Clark’s done now and Sofia nearly, I urge them to go ahead and shop around as I sit in a chair and explain to the woman, Tori, what I’m looking for. “This should be cool!” She tells me, swabbing the skin on my forearm clean. Mark’s done while Tori’s still transferring the design. “She’s still gonna be a while” Tori informs him. “I can wait though, if you need somebody,” he informs me. “No, I’ll be fine! Go find the others. Thanks though!” “Yeah, no problem.” Tori finishes getting the design onto my arm. “You ready?” She asks, dipping the gun into her pot of ink. “Go for it.” I tell her and close my eyes. I think about needles like this running over Eric’s neck as I try to endure the scratching. I trace his designs in my memory, rich, clean, geometric shapes. I recreate them over and over until Tori finally says “All finished!” I open my eyes and look down to my arm, a simple, graphic book looks back at me, hopefully opened to a blank page. “It’s perfect” I whisper at it and hear Tori laugh. “First tattoo,” I hear her explain to someone. I look up into Eric’s face watching me watching my tattoo. His face has an unguarded, relating look that I recognize from the night at his apartment. “It’s a cool one” he says, and though he’s looking at me he’s speaking to Tori. She covers it up, hands me a care kit and I push out of the parlor. A few steps down the walk a hand grabs my arm. I turn to see Eric, his guard replaced but a flicker of uncertainty in his usually unwavering eyes. “If you need reading material,” he nods down at my covered tattoo, “you… know where to come.” A smile burbled up in me, “Thank you! I’ll be sure to take you up on that sometime.” I nod and turn away from him before allowing myself to fully beam.


	6. VI

Week two was easier. I was getting stronger, surer. Mid-week they started pitting us against each other one on one but none of our friend group had to fight each other. Yet. Eric was as stand-offish and in control as usual. I am hyper-aware of him, feel every time his eyes even flick over me, I drop a jab or twist my stance when he comes through the line. The flaws mean his hands on me and I long for the grazes of his strong fingers on my body. I win all my fights first week though, keeping my rankings safe. But my actual fighting chops mean he might know that I am throwing my technique for his corrections. He doesn’t let on though. I start hoping. I want his hands and eyes on me for more than a passing moment and I am starting to believe that he could want that too. So Friday night, after training, after showering and moisturizing my tattoo, after dinner with everyone and their dispersing into the pit to party I go looking for something to read. I rap softly on his door and wait. It’s a couple of minutes and I’m debating knocking again or leaving when the door opens. He isn’t wearing a shirt. Just black jeans and bare feet and bare chest and I stare openly and long. His muscles flow gently into one another under his tattooed skin. I finally drag my eyes northward to his face. He’s just watching me, eyebrows raised. “I wanted to take you up on your offer of a book. May I come in?” He smirks slightly and steps aside, but in such a way that entry requires my turning to face him, to slide by in electrically close proximity. I walk slowly to the lone bookshelf, letting my hips roll shallow figure eights with my steps. I know he’s watching. I run my fingers over the spines on the shelf. “Want a drink?” He asks from behind me. I don’t turn to face him “what’s on offer?” “I’ve got a bottle of red that needs drinking.” I nod at the books “It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it.” I shoot a small smile over my shoulder. “Coming right up.” He moves into the kitchen and I hear him fetching down glasses. My stomach flutters in hopeful anticipation. I turn my attention back to the books, eyes scanning upwards. There, a thin, brightly striped spine, a novel. Fight Club is printed boldly and I tug it off of the shelf. It strikes me as appropriate. I flip it over, reading the synopsis, the author bio. I love fiction, it’s been so long since I had the chance to read for pleasure. Erudite schooling being as rigorous as it is, extra time was in short supply. “That’s a good one” Eric says over my shoulder, offering me my glass of wine. “Seemed appropriate with our current curriculum.” He nods, “Yeah, feel free to borrow it.” “Thank you.” “Yeah, totally, sit?” He motioned towards the couch and I move there, plopping the book on the table and taking a sip of the wine. It’s floral and fruity without being sickly sweet and I roll it around my mouth a moment closing my eyes with the pleasure of it. I open them onto him watching me. “This is delicious.” I inform him, taking another sip. “I’m glad you like it, it’s a personal favorite, always snatch a bottle when I can” “Leadership perks” I grin “exactly,” he smiles back. He’s got a boyish smile that seems at odds with the intimidating rest of him. It’s intriguing and endearing and now I’m watching his mouth, drinking more wine I know exactly how his mouth would taste. “Erudite, right?” He asks me then and I come back to his words. “Yeah” “Why’d you transfer? If you don’t mind me asking.” I shake my head that I don’t mind. “I believe that my diagnosis has always been ‘recklessness’,” I inform him, rolling my eyes a little. “I don’t stop to think things through the way a proper little erudite should.” He nods “That reads about right, First Jumper.” “Precisely.” I set my empty wineglass on the table having quickly downed it. “Rash, impulsive, governed by passion and all that.” He looks at me sidelong for a minute and it sets my insides whirring faster and warmer. “Worse governing forces I suppose,” he drawls low. “I think so,” I tell him, matching his tone. Then, feeling bold from the wine and from those grey eyes boring holes in me I let my fingers trail onto his knee. I wait a heartbeat before raising my eyes. A small, growling hum sounds in his chest and then he’s on me.


	7. VII

His mouth comes down on mine, his soft lips pushing fervently against me. I dart my tongue out, run it along his bottom lip. The moan again and his tongue is at the seam of my mouth. I sigh open for him, his tongue and mouth molding continuously with me. My hand begins to travel up his thigh to rest over his growing groin. His large hands grab me then, hard on either side of my ribcage and he picks me up, without breaking the kiss, to swing me onto his lap, my foot clips a wine glass as I come to straddle him but neither of us pause. His hands wrap securely around my back, traveling up, down my side, to cup by ass, pressing the liquid warmth between my thighs to his abdomen. I grind myself against him. I follow his neck tattoos with my palms, I tangle one hand in his hair, placing the other along that jaw and cheekbone. I kiss him hard then slow, my lips swelling and numbing under the attention. We break the kiss to gasp down some air. He dives at my neck then, planting soft, round kisses to my clavicle and throat. I sigh, still gyrating against him, the friction driving me mad, his cock pressing on my ass. “Yes” I breath out as his mouth moves along the neckline of my shirt. I take my hands from him to peel the shirt from my body, leaving him facing my breast heaving against my black bra. He buries his face there, trailing his tongue lightly up the length of my sternum. He lifts and flips me again, this time underneath him as he moves down my body to lavish himself on my breasts. A hand snakes behind me to unclasp the bra and I arch urgently into the removal of the garment. He flings it carelessly away and he falls on my breasts. Each nipple stands pebbled as he rolls one between thumb and forefinger and gives a hard suck to the other. I throw my head back, panting and forcing my tits higher into his grasp. His one huge hand presses a path down my abdomen lower and lower until he’s pressing his digits into my jeans over that hot, wanting space. “Eric!” I moan softly as his grip builds on the sensations already pooling in my pants. And he pulls away. He’s standing now, and I’m a bit dazed, what have I done? Did I do anything wrong? There was absolutely nothing wrong on my end. I sit up, unabashedly shirtless and stare at him. He’s watching me warily I realize. “This is very much not supposed to be happening.” I stand up slowly and begin to inch towards him as though he’s a skittish animal, which is what he’s acting like. “Leaders aren’t supposed to. Not with initiates,” he’s pushing his hair back, talking more to himself than to me. I plant my hands against the planes of his chest. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” I mutter hoarsely and I am able to look up into those hard, cold-burning steel eyes. I bite my bottom lip and watch him through my lashes. His mouth is on mine before I can release my hold on my bottom lip. He didn’t take much convincing. He isn’t the rule abiding type when the rules stand between him and what he wants. And he wants me. I can feel it in the way he wraps his arms around my waist, crushing me to him. My hands feel the muscles of his arms, the swell of his shoulders. He’s so strong he simply lifts me with his hold on me, pivots and takes the few long strides to push my back against the cold wall. I situate myself over one of his thighs, rubbing against him, grinding against his erection. He growls, breaking the heated kiss to press his mouth up under my jaw, down the side of my neck, in the hollow of my clavicle. I shiver it feels so good. I reach my hands between us and begin to pop the buttons of his fly open, dipping my hand below pant and boxer to grab his cock. It’s large in my hand and I begin to work it up and all the way down to the root. He’s panting as my hand works faster and smoother with his pre-cum. “Enough” he snarls, pressing me into the wall with one hand on my hip as he pushes his bottoms off, kicking them away. He attacks my fly, tearing my pants and underwear off of me and away in a rough motion. He runs his gaze over the whole of my naked form and still more dampness blooms between my folds. He reaches out a hand, moving between my thighs and running a long finger from back to front of my slit. I exhale all the air I had as my stomach contracts with the pleasure of that one touch. “You’re so wet for me” he says with a smirk and brings his whole body close to me again. He works the finger up into me and I moan and drive myself down on it as he slides another in. He curls them wickedly towards himself and my vision wavers. He pumps his fingers inside of me steadily, excruciatingly slowly, a small smirk on his broad mouth, pinning me to the wall with his hip. I’m amazed my legs can hold me at all they’re quaking when he kneels, fingers still crooked inside me and he traces a darting circle around my clit with his wicked tongue. I cry out, no articulated works just an ecstatic “Ahh!” He rises up again licking his lips. He gives me a fast, salty kiss than spins me towards the wall. I brace myself against it. I feel his cock on my ass and the excitement bursts again in my groin. He pulls my hips out towards him and I feel my folds opening unto him. He rubs his shaft against me a few swipes, teasing, tormenting. “Please” I pant out and he chuckles, bringing the head of his erection in line with my dripping entrance. Then he’s inside of me, all of him, fast and hard and I cry out. He’s giving me a real fucking, racing in and out of me with such force I’m gasping. He reaches one hand to maul my breasts, lowering the other to tease my clit. He clutches me closer to him, breath on my ear, lips burning the sensitive skin there. “Tell me how much you like it babe.” He murmurs to me in a low, breathy, sultry tone. I let my head fall back towards him “Yes! Please! Fuck me. Yeah, fuck, Eric, Please! Yes!” The words are each forced from me with a driving thrust of his hips. This is what I needed. This is how I wanted him, hands roving possessively across my whole body, claiming me. All his power focused on me and into me. His cock brushes against the spot up inside me that finally makes my legs literally give out until he is holding me up and onto him, every muscle in my body spasms, temperatures rippling across my skin hot and cold, I hear my cry but through water and a ringing in my ears. He pulls out of me once my walls release him from their constrictions. I whirl as best I can, coming down to my knees before him now and take him in my mouth. I take a hand to massage his balls, plunging his shaft in and out of my mouth in a parody of his pace. He fists my hair and moves me over him. His breathing is rough and continues to tear out of him faster and shorter as I feel his balls begin to constrict and his hot cum hits the back of my throat. I’m gulping it down to the last drop when he pulls me to stand in front of him, back pressed again to the wall. He looks at me there, hair askew and shining with sweat, both our chests lowering back to a normal rate of breathing. “That was amazing,” I inform him, tracing every line of his face, his neck, chest, form with my eyes trying to memorize him damp and unguarded before me. “I won’t disagree with you on that.” I kiss him, a lazy denumount of a kiss. “You can sleep here again if you want,” he tells me, breaking the kiss. “I want. Can I sleep out here again though? Not really a snuggler.” He looks at me as though I’ve surprised him for the better. “Yeah, that’s cool, you know where to find me if you need me.” I smile a little devilishly “And you I” I graze my fingertips across his chest, arm, shoulder blade as I pass by him, swishing my naked hips to take up the blanket from my last stay here and sprawl out on the couch. He runs one of his hands over his face making me chuckle. “Bathroom’s through there,” gesturing to a door beside the kitchen “I’ll see you in the morning.” He strides naked to his door, knowing full well I watch him, before disappearing into his own room, he doesn’t quite close me out though which makes me grin goofily. I eventually pull myself into the bathroom to clean myself up before I fall asleep. I peer into the mirror and see the shadow of a few hickies forming along my throat and examine them from every angle before finally clicking out the light and hitting the couch, exhaustion claiming her rightful prize.


	8. VIII

I smell coffee. And bacon. I sluggishly open my eyes and point and flex my feet against the delicious ache in my body. I roll to my side peering into the kitchen where I catch a glimpse of Eric moving around. I rise, languorously and wrap the long blanket around me like a trailing toga, moving towards the smell of breakfast. I lean in the doorway watching him move around the kitchen, sweatpants slung wonderfully low on his chiseled hips. “Well isn’t this domestic of you.” I half mock as he flips some bacon from pan to plate. He turns, taking in my attire with smirking eyes, “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you think this was for you?” I pout at him in jest “Isn’t it though?” “Nope.” He deadpans “you need to leave.” I give a small, theatrical sigh. “I suppose you’ll be wanting your blanket back before I go.” I drop the fabric to the ground, rotating slowly away from him. I hear the pan clatter back to the stovetop but he’s on me so swiftly I’m still surprised. His large hands splay across my hips pulling my ass against his tenting sweat pants. “I don’t think you want to tease me like that if you had any other plans for today.” He growled against my ear with a nip. I pushed myself back against him with a small wiggle. “Just some light reading.” He put space between us, easing me forward with his grasp on my hips. “Unfortunately I do have other plans. And I can’t have you holed up here for prolonged periods of time without serious suspicions being aroused.” I’ve strolled over to the couch, pulling on my panties, bra, t shirt. “Rule abiding Eric.” I pondered aloud. His head poked out of the kitchen “Your leader and instructor Eric. Out the door First Jumper.” I wiggle into my jeans “Would thou leave me so unsatisfied?” I ask him moving towards where he’s lounging against the wall “You’re not getting any true love’s vow if that’s where this is going.” He retorts, picking up on my reference. “Nah” I smile up into his beautiful face. “I just want your bacon.” I swoop a tiny kiss on the pulse point of his neck before ducking into the kitchen, grabbing several of the plated pieces of bacon, and making to slip past him again but he stops me, a hand on my waist. “Aren’t you forgetting what you came for?” “Oh, believe me I got what I came for.” His guffaws. “I meant the book.” I take it from him “Gives me a reason to come back” I wink broadly at him and make to leave when his hand on my waist brings me in for a searing kiss, one that’s solely pleased with being a kiss alone. I melt into him but all to soon his lips are taken from mine. “Get lost.” He tells me, letting his hand drop. “Yes sir.” I shove a bite of bacon in my mouth, turning to go. He gives my receding ass a smack and I grin as I close the door to his apartment behind me.


End file.
